


kaleidoscope eyes

by blackPlague



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, enjoy this self-indulgent pseudo-fluff, this is half assed idec, wow fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackPlague/pseuds/blackPlague
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in your ten or so sweeps, you are happy. You have no worries: no reality altering game, no death, no responsibilities. You are free as a bird. Free to spend the rest of your days with the only person stupid enough to fall in love with you, of all people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kaleidoscope eyes

**Author's Note:**

> this is my AU where the karkat i write is completely in character. also, headcanon: coffee makes trolls sleepy. yes i just made that up.

The hustle and bustle of the morning routine is usually accented by John misplacing one miscellaneous item or another.

"Hey, where do we put the bags?"  
"Underneath the sink."

"Any idea where the coffee filters are?"  
"Cupboard, top shelf."

"Have you seen my glasses?"  
"On your head."

Today it's: "Where's my other sock?"

To which you respond with a hum over the rim of your deliciously warm coffee spiked with chocolate milk, then point behind you.

"Laundry basket."

He responds with a furrowed brow and goes off to look for the offending sock. When he returns, he plants a big, cheesy kiss on your cheek and hustles out the front door with an incredibly loud "Love you!" shouted over his shoulder.

You smile at that.

Still in your pajamas, you shuffle tiredly onto the couch, mug in hand, blanket still draped over your shoulders. You lean into the soft fabric and look at the blank TV, pensive.

For the first time in your ten or so sweeps, you are happy. You have no worries: no reality altering game, no death, no responsibilities. You are free as a bird. Free to spend the rest of your days with the only person stupid enough to fall in love with you, of all people. John 'Cynical Asshole Perfection Incarnate' Egbert. Yeah, that was too long. Whatever, you're tired. This is why you work nights. You still run on Alternian days (which are actually nights), and thank god that you were able to find a job that suited your schedule. Kanaya works human days, the show-off.

John found work at a movie studio, of all places. He works all day and sometimes nights but it's okay. He makes you happy and he's here for you when you need him to chase the nightmares away. When he's not– well. That's what your recuperacoon is for, you guess.

Nothing compares to him, though. His warmth and the way he kisses your hair until the trembling– the aftershocks of the nightmares– stops; the warm green slime will never measure up.

So right now you think of him and his smile, his stupid face that you just want to punch with your mouth and it all melts away. Your body goes lax against the couch and your insides are warm fuzz, all perfect and soft. You are a sucker for mornings. And coffee. Man, do you love coffee.

The sigh you give is probably the happiest sound you've ever made.

You hum and stand from the couch. You pad into yours and John's room, set the now empty mug on the nightstand, then crawl back under the still warm covers. They smell like him and it relaxes you to no end. So much so that you're too tired, can't make it to your recuperacoon... you just... kind of close your eyes and rest for a teensy bit... Yeah. Your eyes are just kinda heavy and... you're so... sleep...y...

* * *

 

You wake up panting and shivering with no memory of ever falling asleep. The dreams of dying are back. But John still isn't.

So you crawl miserably over to the bedside table and reach for the phone, where you punch in the numbers you know all too well. You don't even let it ring twice. John already knows what one ring means.

Despite your best efforts, you fall back asleep.

* * *

 

When you wake again, John is there and you feel ten times better, dreams of dying aside. His arms are around you and he didn't even take off his shoes or tie. You can hear him panting from no doubt sprinting to the apartment door and then inside to his boyfriend/matesprit/what have you, who can't even handle a nightmare without phoning in the emergency signal. Go you.

You feel kind of guilty about making him run off from work but feel even more relieved when you wrap your arms around his neck and he's just– he's so solid and real and _warm_ and you can't really believe that he's all yours.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't need to, and neither do you.

You lie there as he strokes the soft spot behind your horns and you think that maybe, just maybe, you'll be okay for now.


End file.
